


Freestyle

by yehetmeup



Series: Exodus Mall [6]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetmeup/pseuds/yehetmeup
Summary: The front desk job at the KOKO Exercise Studio was supposed to be your fresh start, somewhere new to escape the past. If only your ex-fiancé could take the hint. When he starts invading your life once again, stopping by constantly, the last person you would have expected comes to your defense. The edgy, brooding dance teacher Jongin is definitely not how you imagined your Prince Charming, but he might prove to be just the man you need.





	Freestyle

Monday January 13th, 1997

The phone rings on the far side of the desk, buried beneath a stack of papers. The hum of conversation in the room from people waiting to go into exercise classes and heading into the gym is so loud that you don’t even hear it at first.

Paige looks up from where she’s explaining the aerobics schedule to someone. ‘Liz, could you grab that? Thanks.’

The use of your old nickname takes a second for you to register and you’re glad it’s so busy that your new boss doesn’t notice.

‘Got it!’ You nod to the person in front of you, an older man, and take his signed liability waiver from him with a smile.

‘Thank you Mr. Albertson, Jazzercise is just down the hall. Second door on your left, starting in fifteen minutes. Have fun!’ Adding the paper to the disorganized stack on the counter, you dash to the end of the desk and pick up the phone.

‘KOKO Exercise Studio. Liz speaking, how can I help you?’ your voice is hurried to your ears and you take a deep breath to slow your heart rate.

The person asks when the next Intermediate Hip Hop class is and you dig through the pile of papers on the desk the schedule. You spot it at the far end of the dark wood desk and reach for it.

Just as your hand closes on the paper you stretch an inch too far and the phone cord exceeds its limit, tugging the receiver off the counter with a loud crash that makes you wince. Blessedly, the customer is still on the phone and you sit on the floor and read off the schedule, trying to hide your chuckle at the sheer insanity of how busy things are.

A man comes behind the desk, one of the dancer instructors, you think. As you speak to the customer you become acutely aware of him and the neutral expression on his handsome face as he takes in you on the floor, the mess around you.

The loose grey sweatpants and a white tank top he wears show off his bronzed skin and toned muscles to an absurd degree. The way he moves, gracefully, power contained in his limbs, somehow makes him look like both fire and water as he prowls next to you.

He looks at the paper in your hands, reading the CLASS SCHEDULE title and motions for it. The crease in his forehead deepens, making you feel foolish and causing you to stutter into the phone.

After looking at it for a beat he hands the paper back to you. He gives you a raise of his brow, the deep brown of his eyes betraying no emotion other than boredom. The way he watches you reminds you faintly of the person who caused you to move to Seattle and you feel your defenses rise in response.

With a glance at the line out the door, he leaves. The air still feels charged from his presence. Electric, the way it does during a rainstorm when lightning is imminent.

Gee, thanks for the help you think, shaking your head before being drawn back into the conversation with the person on the phone.

As soon as you hang up you fix the phone and get started organizing the papers on the counter while you help the next customer with a friendly smile.

Over the course of the day you and Paige alternate handling the endless calls and tackling the steady stream of customers walking in for classes and gym passes. It’s only your fourth day of work, but thankfully you can tell that the New Year’s rush of people attempting to set new fitness resolutions is slowing down.

Someone else might be stressed out by the non-stop work - the tide of paperwork, the scheduling to catch up on after the previous front desk admin quit without notice just after Christmas - but not you. All of it helps with the aching emptiness that has taken up residence in your heart.

Over the course of the last two weeks you’ve moved to Seattle with your older sister, both found places at the Exodus Mall that were hiring, interviewed, and started work. Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye.

On Friday Paige told you she didn’t want to see any other candidates. With your experience with reception at a dance studio in Tacoma you were a perfect fit. She begged you to start that day and it’s been non-stop since.

All of it provides a steady hum of things to do; a hum that distracts your mind and your body from what, and who, you left behind in Tacoma.

No. Left behind is too subtle a phrase to describe it. It implies that you and your sister, at twenty-one and twenty-six, decided to move onto better things in the ‘big city’ of Seattle. Two young women ready to take on the world.

As if. Your life is as far from Friends as it’s possible to be.

Escaped might be better to describe how everything went down. Fled would also work.

In a lull after the seven o’clock classes start you look up from the desk to the busy parking lot, drawn by something in your peripheral vision. You watch as a man walks by, his face buried in the collar of his jacket against the cold.

He turns quickly and carries on, getting lost among the cars. But something about his walk, the cut of his hair, sends a jolt of fear through you. 

No, it can’t be you reassure yourself. There’s hundreds of men in Washington who look like Michael. Brown hair and leather jackets over red plaid shirts in the nineties are a dime a dozen.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on filing away membership forms, as if you can keep your ex from finding you through sheer force of will.

The sense of unease stays with you throughout the rest of your shift; a chill on the back of your neck that you just can’t shake. Finally, ten o’clock rolls around and you head into the mall to meet your sister. You wave good night to Paige and share an amused sigh at how busy the day was.

Your steps echo in the wide open space, reaching up to the expansive glass dome that forms the ceiling of the mall. A few shops are still closing down for the day. Distant laughter reaches you from the pizza parlor to the right and the opening chorus of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’ is playing from the bookstore near the other end.

These sounds should reassure you; help you feel less alone, less… exposed, out here in the open. But they don’t. All you can feel is the looming threat of your ex surrounding you.

Angry tears prick at your eyes as you stand still in the middle of the marble floor. You wipe at them with the edge of your sleeve and take a steadying breath before carrying on.

While you walk towards the mall daycare you start trying to calm yourself down, pulling out affirmations like they are life rafts that can keep you afloat.

I am safe. He can’t hurt me. I am safe. He won’t find me. I am safe…

Unbidden, images cloud your memory, wiping out the brief sense of calm the words had started to lend you.

Cleaning up a gash in Michael’s forehead after a fight, in the front seat of his Camaro. Still cursing, so fired up he hardly seems to even notice the blood dripping into his eyes. The rank smell of his sweat mixed with the alcohol on his breath as angry words fall from his lips.

The way he doesn’t meet your eyes whenever he gets back in the car after ‘just ducking in to say hi’ at his friend Leroy’s house. The way his hand never leaves his pocket while he drives, as if he’s protecting something worth more than gold.

His unfocused eyes and slurred voice; his weight and the stale smell of cigarettes when he presses you against the door of his room. The panic and uncertainty whenever he wants to sleep together that slowly turn into acquiescence for fear of upsetting him.

The gnawing doubt that eats at your stomach as he grows less like the man you fell in love with in high school each day.

His behavior had turned increasingly erratic as Fall turned into Winter and finally, two weeks ago - the party that was the end of it all.

Red and blue lights, flashing on the grass in front of you. The wail of sirens and sharp male voices. The sight of Michael on the lawn, gun in his hand, pointed at a man you don’t know; an all too familiar sight.

His friend Lucas’ harsh command, telling you to run. The desperation in his eyes as a cop pins him to the grass.

The tight line of betrayal that forms on Michael’s lips as a cop puts handcuffs on him, when he realizes you’re leaving him behind.

The way blood rushes in your ears, sounding like the distant Pacific Ocean, as you flee home on foot through backyards and tree lined roads.

‘Hey, ready to go?’ Your sister’s bright, happy voice draws you from your memories, so close and real they feel suffocating.

The warm, comforting mall feels a million miles away from where you stand, struggling under the weight of what had happened.

You blink and focus on her. A smile still tugs at the corner of her lips, lingering amusement from working with kids all day; remnants of joy you hate to rob her of with the ever-present ghost of your past.

When you meet her eyes she immediately knows something is wrong. She steps closer, reaching out to gently rest her hand on your shoulder.

Her brow furrows in concern, looking around and stepping closer, protecting you on instinct. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’

You swallow and will strength into your limbs. ‘Nothing. I’m fine, just… remembering.’ With a shake of your head you come back to yourself. ‘I thought I saw Michael outside today.’

Without a word she draws you into her arms, sheltering you from the world as she always has. You drop your head to her shoulder and let yourself be comforted.

For so long you tried to handle it on your own, ashamed to tell her about all the things Michael had been getting into. It started slowly.

Just after you turned eighteen a friend needed him to bring ‘a package’ to someone.

Then, the year after, the fights had started; the mysterious scratches and bruises. The suspicion at everything and everyone that never left his eyes.

The gun you found in his glove compartment while looking for a napkin after getting ice cream on your twentieth birthday. The fight that followed. The days he spent ‘winning you back’ after you left him in the Baskin Robbins parking lot to walk home afterwards.

The way he’d duck down in the driver’s seat when he took certain side streets, some of the only times his eyes had been clear and focused.

The increasing aggression he showed you with his words, his rules; his hands grasping you tightly as if he was afraid you’d leave. ‘You’re the only thing keeping me sane.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ your sister asks gently, rubbing your back the same way your mother did when you had the flu in fifth grade.

‘How did this get to be my life?’ you mumble sadly against her shoulder. ‘No. I don’t want to let him ruin my day.’

‘How about we go and get some shakes?’ she asks in a cheerful voice, pulling back. ‘They always help.’

The emotion in her eyes lets you know she’s just as affected as you are by thoughts of your old life. Her determination to stay positive is the life raft you cling to for normalcy.

‘That would be great,’ you answer and stand straighter, forcing yourself to be in a good mood.

She nods and grabs your hand in hers, guiding you along through the mall. As you make your way to the car she tells you all about the sweet and funny little kids she watched today at her new job at the mall daycare to distract you.

You listen as best you can, rubbing a hand to your stomach, feeling the pit there grow as it always does when you think about him.

Sure, in the beginning Michael was everything you wanted. Tall, handsome, older. He’d hung out with the cool kids at a rival high school. He made you feel special, beautiful, desirable. From the moment his eyes locked on yours in an adjacent line at the Dick’s Drive-In on Broadway, you were a goner.

After he got arrested on New Year’s Eve you’d burst in the back door, still breathing heavily after your desperate run and shaking from the winter cold. You scared the crap out of your sister who was reading on the couch.

For three hours you sat at the dining room table and told her everything you’d kept hidden from her the past few years. Like a poison that had buried itself in your veins, telling her the whole truth felt like the only thing to do, the only way you could feel clean and whole again.

Her words from two weeks ago echo in your head as she orders two shakes at the burger joint down the street from the Exodus Mall.

‘We’re leaving,’ she says, mouth pulled tight into a line.

‘Leaving?’ you ask in confusion, wiping at the tears drying on your cheeks.

Of all the reactions you’d expected - yelling, crying, hurt that you’d lied to her for so long - this calm and decisive reply throws you.

‘Right now. Pack whatever you need. I’m not letting him drag you down anymore. I’ve known something wasn’t right for a while,’ she says, holding one of your hands in both of hers, brows drawn together in dismay. ‘I’ve been so busy with work and school I didn’t push as much as I should have. I’m so sorry.’

The sad look on her face breaks a dam within you and you pull her into a tight hug. ‘It’s my fault. I didn’t say anything, I wasn’t sure what I’d do without him,’ you say, voice cracking, and press your face against her long hair. ‘I’m so scared.’

She clears her throat and there’s determination in her voice when she speaks. ‘We’re getting out of here, okay?’

Your eyes go wide, your heart wants to object. For months, years really, you’ve known Michael was headed nowhere good, but still you love him. In the naive, blindly optimistic way can’t help with him.

‘He’ll come here looking for you, once he’s out on bail, won’t he?’ she asks, pulling back and giving the most intense stare you’ve seen since the time you stole one of her Barbies.

He’s obsessed. You know this, even though you badly wish you didn’t. He says you’re his only tie to the world. If you don’t leave now he’s going to drag you all the way down with him. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to be here? Or do you want out?’

Fresh tears pool in your eyes and you blink through them, rubbing your palm with your thumb, desperately wishing you could somehow take Michael with you and start over.

But by now you know he’s never going to change, and the only choice left is whether you want to go down with him.

‘I just want us to be happy again. I want to feel safe.’ Your voice is so small you’re surprised she can even hear you, but like always, she does.

She nods, kneels down next to your chair and gives you another hug hug. ‘Leave it to me.’

After losing your parents you’d thought nothing could make you feel so lost and small again, but that familiar feeling rose up in you as you watched your sister. The only thing that gave you hope was the way you two worked like a team that night.

As 1996 gave way to 1997 she’d squeezed your hand and given you a reassuring smile and then you two got to work.

Despite the late hour she’d called a friend from college and arranged for the two of you to move into her spare bedroom in Seattle that morning. You packed up your things - clothes, books, photos - everything you could squeeze into your sister’s Camry.

The two of you knocked on Mrs. Jenkins’ door in the early hours of the morning and explained you were leaving and why. Blessedly, she’d understood and said she’d handle the furniture you were leaving behind and close out your lease early with no charge. She’d kindly forced you both to eat some pancakes before you took off.

By the time the sun came up on the first day of the new year you were driving off to Seattle.

Nothing about your life feels familiar any more, but you’re here. You have a job you like. The friend of your sister’s you’re living with is incredibly warm and kind, and her apartment is cute and welcoming.

Sharing a bed with your sister is delightfully reminiscent of your childhood. So is going by Liz, from your favorite Jane Austen book growing up.

Besides, your sister’s right - the shakes do help. You smile at the comforting taste of chocolate and attempt to put Michael, Tacoma, and the past behind you.

Tuesday January 14th, 1997

You wake to the sound of your bedroom door closing softly. Blinking, you look at the clock and see it’s the ass crack of dawn, the sun isn’t even up yet.

Must be your sister heading off to UW Seattle to talk about transferring and finishing her Master’s over there instead.

She’s always been devoted to her studies, finishing her degree and working on her Master’s of Library Science around the jobs she’s taken to provide for the two of you. No matter how many times you’ve offered to contribute part of your earnings at the dance studio to rent and food she insisted that you keep it for your dance lessons and coaches.

Going to college never crossed your mind, honestly. Nothing makes you as happy as dancing does, and the studio let you work full time around your practice schedule. It was perfect. You could do it forever, you’d thought. The owner was already talking about letting you train as a teacher in the summer.

A nervous trickle of excitement runs through your veins when you think about having to start over at KOKO. New classes, new scene, new everything.

But you’re not someone afraid of a challenge. While other kids would stand on the dock, looking at the deep water in Lake Fenwick with trepidation, you’d run off the end, screaming in delight, without a second thought.

Just like then you figure it’s better to dive in rather than fussing about it. You force yourself to get up and stretch, warming up your muscles. It’s been two long weeks since you had the time or energy to dance and your body craves it.

You remember that there’s an Advanced Contemporary class at nine thirty and drag yourself into the kitchen.

The apartment is small and cozy, with bright yellow walls. And you love the thick row of Evergreen trees that run along the narrow road behind the building.

The door to your roommate’s room is also open and you shake your head, imagining the two of them already in the library at this early hour. She’s a godsend, you think, to invite you and your sister to stay with her like this.

No, she’s an actual angel - she even left you some coffee in the pot. You fill a mug, savoring the smell.

By the time you’re dressed and walking to the bus stop the winter sun is finally clearing the horizon. A group of people walk past you, clearly on their way home after a long night, arms around each other’s waists and shoulders. Their eyes are drooping and they yawn in between laughing, loudly recounting an amazing concert at somewhere called Mo’s.

How long has it been since you had a night out, with actual friends? you wonder. There’s plenty of people at the mall who seem nice. Even just being around your sister and roommate is more fun than you’ve had in ages.

Maybe this can be a fresh start in more ways than one, you think, cheered by the idea and feeling younger than you have in ages.

Paige greets you warmly when you get to the studio and head inside, pulling off your thick wool scarf.

‘How’s it going today?’ you ask.

She smiles and brushes her hair behind her ear. ‘Already slowing down, thank goodness. You’ve been a lifesaver.’

You glow at the compliment. ‘No, truly. You’re the lifesaver, this job is wonderful. And I can’t believe you’re letting me take free classes here. I had to pay for them at my old studio, so this is fantastic.’

‘It’s all part of my master plan to keep you here forever,’ she says with a wink. 

You laugh and run your hand along the counter. Already the place is starting to feel like home. 

‘Stephanie said she was hoping to get you into the teaching program at your old studio, would you be interested in doing that here?’

Your mouth drops open in surprise. ‘Really? I mean - you haven’t even seen me dance. I could be awful.’

She laughs out loud. ‘I looked you up online before the interview. I know some of your teachers and trust their opinions. It’s one of the things I try to cultivate here - to have my teachers help out on the desk or as trainers in between classes so they can make enough to be stable. I knew you were a fit right when I met you.’

‘That’s amazing, Paige. Really, thank you. I’d love to -’

You’re cut off by a group of older ladies who need some help figuring out the lockers. She pats your shoulder as she walks by. ‘The application is saved to the desktop. Just fill it out and pop it in my box when you’re done and I’ll work on scheduling you some shadow shifts, okay?’

All you can do is nod after her in surprise. You turn to head down the hall towards the dance studios and smack into something hard and imposing. You assume you’ve run into a wall in your excitement, but instead of an inanimate object you’re staring into deep brown eyes that belong to the intimidating man from yesterday.

You swallow and step back instinctively. He’s waved at Paige and the other front desk assistants enough that you know he’s not completely terrible. Not that he’s ever spoken to me before, or shown any interest in being nice, you think with a frown.

He raises an arrogant brow, a ghost of a smirk lingering in the corner of his lips as he watches you blatantly stare at him.

He smells too damn good for this early in the morning. The thought makes you cross your arms protectively in front of your chest and take a step back.

You’ve had enough of self-centered asses for one life, thank you very much. With a shake of your head you break the awkward staring contest between you two and stride down the hall, leaving him behind.

It’s still early, so you’re the only one in the expansive wood-floored studio aside from a slim woman with a silver braid halfway down her back. The door thumps closed behind you and she turns to greet you with eyes so clear and blue you’d swear she’s an elf, not a human.

‘Hi hi hi, welcome. Come on in,’ she says with a voice like a running river. The sense of calm and peace she exudes washes over you. ‘I’m Michelle and you’re… Liz right? From the front desk?’

You nod, unable to resist smiling at her. ‘Yes that’s me,’ you say with an awkward wave.

‘Come right over here love, put your stuff in one of the cubbies. I’ve heard many great things from Paige. I’m so excited to meet you,’ she says, emphasizing the last word warmly. The sun coming in through the large glass windows makes her hair appear to glow.

She takes you under her wing, asking about your dance background while she sets up the music and greets other dancers coming in for class.

She claps in delight when you tell her Contemporary was always your favorite. ‘Excellent, I’m so delighted you’re here. You might give my star student a run for his money if Paige is right about you.’ She grins and deep wrinkles form in the corners of her eyes.

With a nod of her head she points to one of the few men in the class, stretching in the corner in black sweatpants and a simple white shirt.

You jolt. Shit. Anyone but him. For the second time that morning the arrogant man catches you off guard.

Without his hat his hair is messier than it usually is when you’ve seen him moving in and out of the studio. Even the early morning sun can’t dim the intensity in his eyes and frown on his lips.

You regard her with a raised brow. ‘Him?’

She laughs out loud, a bright sound of amusement. ‘Yes, dear. Have you met Jongin? My taciturn boy has a much softer heart than you’d imagine. Contemporary shows you someone’s soul, I think, and his bark is worse than his bite. You’ll see,’ she says mischievously while the last of the class gets settled.

At your curious expression she clarifies. ‘He’s not my flesh and blood son, but he’s been taking classes with me for so long I feel like he’s one of mine.’

With a shrug you walk over to a spot against the windows and finish stretching, positioning yourself as far from him as possible. Michelle takes her place at the front of the class, clapping her hands in delight.

‘Welcome, welcome. If you’re a veteran of this class then you’ll know I always start with a word to inspire you for the day,’ she says, emphasizing her magical vibe with dramatic hand movements. ‘Today’s word is free, darlings. Let yourself feel into the music. Let your heart run free.’

No stranger to eccentric teachers, you smile at her. She’s so kind that any fear of taking classes at this new studio has almost vanished. The last remaining piece of unease is due to the almost six foot tall man who has somehow worked his way to stand next to you.

Jongin’s attention is on Michelle, but he sneaks a look at you as she begins teaching the choreography for the class. Electric, challenging eyes. Smirk, raised brow. His attention makes you feel like you’ve been engulfed in flames.

Stubbornly you drag your attention away from him and focus on following along with Michelle’s steps. Unfortunately you can see him crystal clear in the mirrored walls in front of you both.

With a sigh you accept that it’s pointless to try to avoid him when he dances. Clearly, he was born to do this, you think, watching him in the mirror, envious of the way light seems to play off his features.

But as you ease into the flow of the class, bending and moving effortlessly along with Michelle, you remember that you were made for this too.

Every time you spin he’s watching you like a hawk, an unreadable expression on his infuriatingly handsome face. He studies the lines of your body like he’s preparing to paint you. You’re just as bad, it’s impossible to take your eyes off him.

Begrudgingly you admit that Michelle is right - his every movement shows his heart, whether he knows it or not; emotion is conveyed by his hands, his neck, his back as he dances. 

There’s an intensity, a sensation of passion barely contained beneath his skin that makes your heart race. And a softness you can see, a tenderness he keeps behind his mask that feels like glimpsing a priceless gem buried amongst the rubble.

When you first saw him you thought he was mean and full of himself. Just like Michael. But now you realize they could not be more different. The same power flows through both men, to wildly different routes.

After what feels like seconds, Michelle is already wrapping up class. Her pleasant voice carries on in the background as you and Jongin face each other. The openness in his expression is bright and hopeful and feels too big for you to contain. Sweat glistens on his chest and you ache to lick it off.

You blink to yourself. Where did that come from?

You step back, shaken. He watches your face and something he sees there makes his guard slam shut. The warmth in his eyes turns distant again, his expression drops.

He turns away from you, a hard edge to his shoulders. He grabs his bag and jacket and pushes out the door without a backward glance, leaving you feeling like the sun has suddenly been extinguished.

Tuesday January 21st, 1997

Jongin groans to himself in the light seeping through the gaps in his blinds. For long moments he contemplates skipping Michelle’s class today. He’s managed to avoid you for a week, checking schedules when he knows you’re at lunch, exiting in a rush through the mall and taking the long way to his car.

You’ll be there again today, he can feel it in his bones. This is a problem for two reasons.

First - all he can do in class is watch you dance. Too many things slip through the careful barrier he’s formed to face the world when he’s around you. He feels too raw, too open, too much, and he hates feeling that vulnerable.

When you dance around him he can’t think straight. When he’s near you he has absolutely insane fantasies. Of pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless. Of spilling all the desires inside of him. Of trailing his fingers down the curve of your neck when you fall asleep beside him.

He groans. As if you’d ever want someone like him. As if he’d ever be able to stand being around someone like you. You wear your heart on your sleeve and he imagines cartoon animals helping you get dressed in the morning.

The two of you are as opposite as can be.

Except when you dance, a traitorous part of his brain thinks. He leaps out of bed and heads to make some coffee before the thought can embed itself in his mind. Too late.

Secondly - Something about you makes him want to be a better man. He knows he’s a good man. Knows he’s responsible, honorable, helpful. Even if he can be a dick sometimes, he knows in his heart he’s good.

No, make him want to be a different kind of man, he corrects, pouring creamer into his coffee. Someone sweeter and kinder, more hopeful.

He can’t explain it, the feeling that rises in him when he passes by you.

Yes, it’s attraction. Of course it is. He wonders how anyone could look at your unruly hair, the curve of your waist, your shy smile when greeting new customers, the surprisingly loud way you laugh when someone makes a joke at the counter, and not fall in love with you.

Yes, it’s also a desire to protect you. Not in a condescending way, as if you’re weak and need to be sheltered from the world; but he wants to be the one to hold you late at night when you’re scared. The one to be by your side to make sure that life doesn’t make you hard and bitter, or rob you of the delight the seems to inhabit your being.

He barks out a laugh at himself and it turns into a groan as he rubs his eyes. He doesn’t even know you, but he wants to.

Given how rude he’s been there’s zero chance you want to know him. And you shouldn’t want to. You’re soft and sweet; he’s been made hard by his upbringing.

Navigating the foster system in Seattle had taken the ease and joy he’d felt as a child, smoothed off his expressive edges until he had molded himself into someone who could get by.

If it wasn’t for Michelle, he’d probably be a lost cause. When he became friends with her son she’d seen the way his eyes had lit up when she talked about dancing. She invited him to come and take some youth classes for free, the rest was history.

He gets by just fine these days. But for you he wants to be more, and he’s man enough to admit that you scare the shit out of him for just that reason.

He drags himself through his morning routine and braces himself to watch you again today. He will allow himself this weakness, watching you, savoring the way you watch him as well.

Even if he maintains his icy front and you never have to endure a conversation with him, he still gives himself the permission to imagine that there’s more between you. Dangerous as that might be.

Monday February 3rd, 1997

The drive to the mall with your sister gives you an unfortunate amount of time to worry about Michael. It’s been over a month. If he was anyone else he would take the hint and not look for you, but his obsessive tendencies and possessive nature make you convinced he’ll come looking for you.

Luckily, he’s not the most tech-savvy person around and the chance he’ll be able to track you down that way is slim. No one from your old life knows where you’re working or living, so there’s time. Aside from Paige who did your hiring, no one knows your real name.

You imagine his anger at finding your apartment cleared out and hope that he didn’t do anything to Mrs. Jenkins. The thought of him breaking a door sends a shudder through you. Maybe he punched a wall, which you’d seen him do many times.

The feeling of dread threatens to pull you down with it, but as you drive south on the freeway the Space Needle appears from around a curve. The bright blue waters of Lake Washington glow on this unseasonably sunny day and you turn up the radio, letting the sound of Nirvana wash away your fear.

Paige has finally entrusted you with running the desk by yourself and as you go through the opening paperwork you can’t help but feel proud.

The day passes by as it normally does. Waves of moms and seniors in the morning hours. Business folks coming in on their lunch hour. Everyone leaving sweatier and happier than when they came in.

When the afternoon exercise classes start, the day picks up. You almost don’t see him amongst the steady stream of people. But like always, his energy draws you.

Michael leans against the back wall, with the same quirked eyebrow and leather jacket he always wore. Funny how it’s only been a month and already it feels like the two of you are strangers. His presence is a punch to your gut and you look around in dismay before you realize Paige is on her lunch.

Classes have started for the hour and the gym is separated from reception by a solid wall. No one is nearby to help.

Michael waits for a moment to pounce, his sharp eyes scanning the folks checking in and leaving. Your heart races, breath catching in your throat. All at once you feel like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat.

In a break in the crowd he stalks towards the desk. He leans against the counter, encroaching on your space as always. ‘Miss me?’

The sneer on his lips is revolting and you wonder all over again how you ever were attracted to him, and how you tolerated his attention for so long.

'What are you doing here?’ you finally manage to get out, your earlier calm and confidence vanished the moment your eyes met his.

His smile turns harsh, angry. 'Didn’t think the pigs could hold me for long, did you?’

With another look around he leans closer over the desk and runs a finger down your cheek. You grimace and pull away, anxious energy clouding around you, pressing in as you wait to see what he wants.

'You left me.’ His voice turns ice cold. 'It took me ages to find you.’

Fear roils in your stomach, dissolving any sense of security you’ve built up in the last month. With an attempt at a steadying breath you remind yourself that you’re not completely alone, you’re surrounded by people and there’s no way he can hurt you here.

Long seconds pass as he stares at you across the desk. Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Paige asks from behind you and you’re so relieved you could have kissed her.

You swallow harshly, finally breaking Michael’s intent stare. When you look up she’s standing there with a stack of files in her arm, raising an eyebrow at Michael, who’s clearly not here to work out.

‘Can I help you?’ she says. Her tone takes on a hard edge as she watches the way he oozes possessiveness into the space.

He straightens, his eyes not leaving yours. With a wink he turns to leave. ‘Thank you for your assistance, miss. I’m excited to become a regular customer here.’

He pushes through the door and disappears into the busy sidewalk. The thump of the door as it closes breaks the spell on you and with a deep inhale you observe the slight shaking of your hands.

Paige moves to your side and takes you in. Her keen eyes miss nothing and she squats down next to you. ‘What’s wrong?’

You debate telling her, wondering if it’s best to just brush it off. But the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you hoped you’d left behind in Tacoma is burning once more. Your sister is right, he won’t stop. Ever.

Ashamed that you’d ever been involved with someone like him and wishing for all the world that he could have just forgotten you, you decide to tell her. Meeting her kind brown eyes you summarize as best as you can.

‘That was my ex, Michael,’ you start, coughing to clear the lump in your throat. ‘I left Tacoma to get away from him, to start fresh. It’s why I asked you all to call me by my nickname. But he found me.’

Her eyes go wide in shock for a moment, brows pulling together in concern. ‘Did he hurt you?’

You shrug, unsure how to convey how he made you feel. ‘He was manipulative. Aggressive, demanding. He didn’t … not like that. He didn’t hit me, but he hurt me in other ways. I thought - it was silly, but I thought getting away from him I’d be safe. I don’t know what to do.’

Determination colors her features and she stands to pick up the phone. ‘You’re part of my staff now, and I don’t tolerate assholes. Especially not the possessive ex variety. I’m calling Leeteuk, he’s the head of mall security. Do you want to go home for the day?’

Instantly you want to hide, embarrassed. ‘No, no, no. Please don’t,’ you plead quietly. ‘I don’t want to make a scene. And I… it’s nice being here, surrounded by people right now.’

She pauses with her hand on the receiver. ‘I promise, no scene. I just want it to be on his radar in case that jerk comes back, okay? If you’re here and he comes in again, let me know or call LT or Dale. You’re safe here.’

‘Okay.’ Relief floods through you while she calls, telling the man on the phone that she’ll find a picture from the security footage and send it over.

You breathe deeply and let it out, turning to greet the kind older man approaching the desk, glad for the distraction. Paige hangs up the phone a moment later and gives you a nod as if to say it’s all going to be alright. ‘Let me know how I can help, I’m here for you.’

You nod. ‘Thank you, Paige. I mean it.’ 

She gives you a small smile and heads back to her office.

The day carries on as the afternoon rush picks up and slowly the sense of dread in your gut eases a fraction. He’s still out there, but now you feel like you’ve got an entire mall on your side.

Thursday February 6th, 1997

For two days you watch the sidewalk and the mall entrance nervously, waiting for him to show up again. It’s just like him, to keep you on pins and needles. Always at his beck and call.

When you told your sister what happened at lunch she looked like she could have breathed fire. She came over personally on her break that night to talk to Paige, and then LT and Dale.

She’s already called once today to check in, from the library at UW. Even if it’s kind and well intentioned, everyone’s protectiveness is starting to make you feel like a child, rather than a twenty-one year old woman.

By Thursday morning you’ve had enough, and resolve to put him out of your mind. Sitting up straighter, you go about the opening duties with your eyes firmly focused on the computer and the stacks of paper in front of you.

As the day goes on your smile feels more genuine, the vice grip of fear on your heart loosening enough for you to feel human again. By the time Paige swaps you so you can take your lunch break you’re feeling almost back to your normal, cheerful self.

Maybe it was a one time thing, you think, as you work your way around the tables in the food court carrying your pizza slices. Maybe he just wanted to stop by and assert his dominance before moving on with his life.

It feels too good to be true, you think, pulling your lip between your teeth.

At a table in the food court, right in front of you, is Jongin, sitting by himself. An empty plate on the counter, a paperback propped open on his extended leg. From here you can see the faint shadow on his jaw and can’t resist thinking about how his skin might taste.

It really is unfair that someone so hostile should be so damn attractive.

As if he’s heard your thoughts he looks up, his devastatingly seductive eyes visible this close. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. But abruptly, the hair stands up on the back of your neck.

Scanning the mall, you see him. Michael, standing in the middle of the entryway, thankfully looking towards the jewelry store at the other end. He’d look like just another shopper if you didn’t know him.

The drive from Tacoma is not short, especially at lunch time. He’s here for a purpose.

He’d definitely notice you through the crowd, even though it’s thick with people at this hour. The distance to KOKO is just too far. You stand there frozen for a beat, heart racing in your chest. Without thinking, you pull out the chair across from Jongin and sit down, lifting your hand to cover your face.

‘What’s wrong?’ comes a deep voice, softer than you’d have thought Jongin would have.

You look up and he’s closed his book, clearly on alert after what he finds in your expression. His hand reaches out to your knee but he looks at it with a frown and checks the motion.

‘I just - that man by the door, in the leather jacket. He’s my ex and he’s… I don’t know. Stalking me.’ You sigh. ‘I thought he’d leave me alone, but he keeps coming by.’

‘Does security know about it?’ he asks, looking to the right. The narrow hall where the security office is housed is visible next to the movie theater.

You nod. The fear that normally races through your veins when Michael’s around is simmering down. For all his hardness Jongin’s presence feels like a safety blanket.

‘I just need to get out of here. I’m so tired of seeing him.’ You peek through your fingers and see Michael has slipped his hands in his pockets, and he’s coming this way. ‘Crap.’

Jongin follows your eyes and his expression hardens when he locates who you’re watching. ‘Come with me,’ he says, standing and putting himself between you two.

He ghosts his hand down your back and motions you ahead, straight into Starlight Apparel. Behind his height you’re practically invisible.

A tall man with dark hair and model-like features sees you and Jongin. His eyes go wide with concern at your obvious distress and the intensity radiating off Jongin.

‘Hey, man. What’s up?’ he asks, coming around the counter.

‘Do you have somewhere she can hide?’ Jongin asks this man, who’s clearly a friend.

He nods, looking out into the mall and ushers you both through the store to the back, asking another employee to cover the register on the way.

He leads you down a short hallway behind the dressing rooms and opens a door that leads to a back room that looks like it doubles as a breakroom. ‘You’ll be safe back here, it’s just for employees. Would sitting help?’

With an attempt at a deep breath you collapse into one of the chairs, adrenaline fizzing out and leaving you feeling a million years old. Jongin stands by cautiously, looking ready to act if you say the word.

Jongin turns and gives the man a complicated handshake. ‘I’ve got it from here, thanks Sehun.’

‘No problem.’

Once the other man leaves Jongin crouches in front of you, giving you your space. A silent, protective presence.

After a moment your breathing evens out to the point where you can speak. ‘Sorry about that. I-’

‘It’s on him for being an asshole. Not you.’ His tone is insistent, like he needs you to understand that it’s not your fault and you nod, feeling tears well up. ‘I’m going to get security, are you okay here?’

You nod. ‘I’m fine. Thank you, Jongin.’

He jolts at the sound of his name, an unreadable expression on his face. After a beat he stands. ‘I’ll be back when the coast is clear, okay?’

He’s gone in a flash and you stare at the space he occupied. With a disbelieving laugh you realize it’s the first time you’ve spoken to him after weeks of working together.

By the time you’ve finished your pizza Jongin is back with a red-haired man named Leeteuk who tells you that unfortunately, Michael managed to vanish once again.

The rest of the day you notice Jongin keeping an eye on you. You do your best to think that he’s just being kind, but against logic you allow yourself to enjoy his protectiveness.

Monday February 10th, 1997

Your sister is running late after closing. You could head through the mall to see what’s keeping her, but it’s an unseasonably warm night and you decide to go and wait by the car.

The mall sits across from a large, dimly lit park. It’s absence of light and noise is a rarity for downtown. The other buildings on the streets on either side of the mall are filled with crowded restaurants and concert venues, bookstores open late, and a tall, vibrant building advertising the best karaoke in Seattle.

Hands in your pockets, you lean back against the car and stare up at the stars. Despite its technology boom, Seattle seems to be resisting modernization in subtle ways, clinging to its grunge and anti-establishment vibes by its’ teeth.

The juxtaposition of new and old, hip and classical, makes you feel like you too can be anything you choose.

You think about the application to be a teacher trainee that sits in your bag with Paige’s stamp of approval. You think about the Sunday morning breakfasts you’ve gotten into a routine of sharing with your sister and roommate. You think about how excited you are for Michelle’s class tomorrow.

And you think about the way you feel like the center of the Universe when Jongin’s focus is on you. Despite the threat of Michael, you can’t find it in you to be unhappy.

This time of night on a Monday the parking lot is mostly deserted, a bubble of quiet despite the activity and noise that surround it.

Of course Michael would choose now to find you. He always was smarter than you’d given him credit for.

A weight settles abruptly next to you against the car and you turn, startled by the sudden appearance of a person next to you.

In quick succession you notice the uncharacteristic stubble on his face, the red rims to his eyes. Michael’s hand drops to the back of the car, his fingers reaching to possessively play with the hair at the nape of your neck, making you recoil.

‘Finally, we’re alone,’ he growls against your ear, pulling you flush against his side.

‘Michael -’ his name leave you in a high-pitch, fear coloring your veins as you look around in desperation.

You swallow harshly, focusing on keeping your breathing steady. His bike waits in a spot a few spaces down. You were so caught up in daydreaming you didn’t recognize the sound.

‘Why are you here?’ you ask, shoving against his side with both hands. His stomach feels like steel and all you succeed in doing is pissing him off. 

‘What, you think you can manage without me, baby?’ he taunts, stepping into your space. ‘You’re coming with me.’

When you were younger the smell of his cologne used to thrill you. The patches on his leather jacket, the motorcycle, the dismissive sneer; it all used to make you weak in the knees. The fact that someone so handsome and larger than life wanted you made you feel special, desirable.

But now, as an adult woman, you see these things for what they are. You see him for who he is - a power-hungry, manipulative asshole. 

Being away from his overwhelming presence was like Dorothy stepping into Oz, the world ceased to be black and white and expanded into full color once again.

Warm and steadying anger seems into you. You’re done with letting him affect you. ‘Stop it, Michael. You shouldn’t be here. Get out.’ 

You raise your hands to his chest, pushing yourself steadily away from him and fixing him with your most determined stare. He laughs, an ugly sound of dismissal. Like he can’t imagine that you’d want anything in life more than you want him. 

‘It’s over.’ Despite the conviction in your voice, you hope he can’t see the way your hands shake as they drop to your sides. 

His mouth twists to the side in a cruel smile. When he moves to corner you again someone steps between you two, blocking him from your sight.

‘She told you to leave,’ comes a deep, steady voice.

‘Jongin?’ you ask, stepping around to see that his expression has turned sharp. He radiates power, seeming taller and broader than you remembered.

Michael sneers, standing taller. ‘Did you find someone else to fuck you already, baby?’

‘Get out of here. Now.’ Jongin commands. ‘Security is on their way.’

His recent brush with the law seems to be fresh in his mind as Michael sizes up Jongin, undoubtedly weighing his desire to claim you against wanting to avoid getting in trouble with the law again. 

‘Fine. I’m going,’ he says harshly. 

Surrender chafes against him and his hand hovers over his jacket pocket in a way that makes you step forward to hold onto Jongin’s arm. You want to protect him, or have him protect you. Probably both. 

Jongin looks down at you with those intense eyes of his and reaches to hold your hand. 

‘Just know you’re still mine. That will never change,’ Michael says, looking at your clasped hands like he wants to punch something. He jams his helmet on his head and drives off. 

Jongin gives your hand a squeeze, his face softening. ‘Are you okay?’

You know you shouldn’t, but for a moment you let yourself sag in relief against his shoulder. ‘I- thank you, for being here.’ 

‘I didn’t like the look of him, the way he made you tense up. Can I admit I’ve been keeping a watch out for you since last time?’

You pull back and smile up at him, holding his focus. ‘I know.’

He looks down, an embarrassed smile on his lips. So often he looks away, disappears around corners. Tonight you refuse to let him back away without letting him know how much it means to you that he’s been there for you. 

‘Jongin, I -’ Movement behind him draws your attention and you see your sister hurrying across the parking lot. She stops next to you, instinctively moving to your other side and sizing up Jongin. 

‘Hi, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, this dad forgot to pick up his son and I had to drop him off,’ she says slightly out of breath, looking between you and Jongin. 

‘Something happened. What did I miss?’ She looks at him suspiciously and he lets go of your hand.

Jongin sighs and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Her ex showed up.’

‘I could kill that man. This is ridiculous.’ She makes a noise like an angry lioness and you almost want to laugh, imagining her tearing into Michael. 

Jongin nods. ‘I agree. I don’t think the police would be able to do much, and security is already on alert. I’d… like to walk you to your car until he’s dealt with, if that’s alright.’

Your sister raises a brow. ‘And who are you? I’m sure you’re a good guy, but as you can see, I’m a little protective of her.’

Jongin laughs out loud at her feisty tone. The warm, rich sound is a balm, chasing away the lingering unease Michael’s hands had stirred up.

He reaches out his hand formally and shakes your sister’s hand. ‘My name is Jongin Kim. I’m a hip hop instructor and personal trainer at KOKO. No ulterior motives, I just want to keep your sister safe from that creep.’

She sizes him up, nodding when she doesn’t find anything alarming in her perusal. ‘We drive together Saturday, Sunday, and Monday when I work. Thursday and Friday she buses by herself. And I know she’s been here on her days off taking classes.’

He looks like he’s mentally mapping out a schedule. ‘Sounds good, I’ll meet you guys at the entrance the days you drive and walk you.’ He turns to you. ‘I’ll drive you home the rest of the week.’

Your jaw drops. ‘I can’t ask that of you, it’s too much. I don’t want to inconvenience you.’

He pulls his keys from his pocket thoughtfully. ‘You didn’t ask. I offered. I practice a lot when I’m not working, so I’m here all the time, anyways.’

‘That would be very kind of you, I appreciate it.’ Your sister says, but he keeps his eyes locked on yours.

‘For how long?’ you ask softly.

He sighs. ‘I grew up with a lot of people like that. Unfortunately I think he’s going to do something that puts him away for a long time. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t involve you.’

You nod and he lingers for a moment before turning to head for his car with a wave. 

‘Well, that was unexpected,’ your sister says. She’s folded her arms across her chest and bumps you good-naturedly with her shoulder. ‘You didn’t tell me you had… a bear to protect you.’

You laugh, tension easing from your muscles. ‘That’s a good way to describe him.’

She walks around to get in the driver’s seat. ‘Want to tell me what’s up with you two?’ she asks over the roof of the car. 

‘I’ll tell you when I figure it out myself, deal?’ He makes you feel every emotion under the sun it seems like. You’re a spinning wheel when it comes to him, and you have no idea where the arrow will land. 

‘Deal.’ She laughs and slides into the seat. 

Wednesday February 12th, 1997

Jongin pushes into the studio with his shoulder. One of the yoga instructors is manning the desk this morning, filling in on your off day. With a nod of his head to her he keeps walking down the hallway. As always, he focuses on the choreography for the class he’s going to teach today, going over it in his head.

The door to the manager’s office opens and he nods to Paige as he passes by.

‘Jongin, just who I was hoping to see. Do you have a minute?’

‘For you? Always,’ he teases. He’s known Paige just as long as Michelle and he’d happily take a bullet for either of them.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. ‘Liz from reception is going to start shadowing for her teacher training. I told her she could start with your class today, I hope that’s alright.’

He sighs and runs a hand through his messy hair. Of course the Universe keeps finding more ways to throw the two of you together. He braces himself. ‘Yep. Fine with me, I’d be happy to show her how we do things here.’

‘Excellent. I knew I could count on you,’ she says with a smile.

He shakes himself and turns, heading for the locker room. Amusement makes him smile and he sighs, thinking he’ll always be out of his depths when it comes to you.

A familiar voice calls to him while he puts away his stuff in his locker.

‘What’s up man?’ Yixing says, slinging an enthusiastic arm around Jongin’s shoulder.

He grins and draws his friend into a handshake and a hug.

'Long time no see, are you finally taking classes again?’ Jongin asks, pulling his chosen CD from the stack .

'Yeah, I’m trying to get back into it. Work was insane over the holidays and all this Valentine’s prep has me wound up like crazy. I’m ready to sweat, so make sure it’s a good class,’ he laughs and pretends to punch his friend in the shoulder.

He and Yixing catch up as they enter the studio and he starts setting things up for class. The CD in the player and he queues up for repeat the track he’s chosen for today’s beginning/intermediate Hip Hop class - ‘My Way’ by Usher.

A few regulars nod and wave while he and Yixing stretch, warming up. But when you walk in, looking like you stepped out of his dreams, he swallows hard.

Yixing notices his lingering stare as he watches you put your stuff in a cubby and begin walking over. 'Who’s that?’

Jongin ignores the obvious insinuation in his tone. 'Our new receptionist.’

'Aaaah, you sweet on her?’ Yixing laughs at the death glare he receives. 'Dude, I’m your friend, you can tell me anything. You know that.’

You give him a tentative wave as you approach. Yixing gets up and mouths ‘go for it’ behind your back to Jongin.

He wants to laugh at how different things are, in just the short few weeks since you started here. So much has happened that he isn’t able to keep his distance. He decides to greet this change with a reckless sort of enthusiasm.

‘So I hear you’re in teacher training?’ he says, wincing at how overly excited he sounds.

‘Yes and I’m so nervous about it,’ you laugh, twisting your hands together at your waist.

‘Why? You’re an amazing dancer,’ he says. It’s obvious to him that you know what you’re doing.

You blush at the compliment and instantly he wants to give you a thousand more. It usually doesn’t phase him anymore, being watched. He knows the feeling of all eyes on him when he teaches classes or performs. Ever since he realized he could dance in middle school, people have been watching him.

First it was other dancers, people on the street; at clubs and competitions and classes. And now, thanks to a lucky break from Paige, he has a steady flow of teaching opportunities at KOKO.

People have been watching him for years, but nothing prepares him for how exposed and vulnerable your attention makes him feel.

‘You’ll do amazing. I know it. The first class you just shadow, so there’s no pressure. Just get into the flow of how I run the class. Follow me and do what I do.’

You nod and salute him. ‘Okay, I can do that. I’m sure you’re an amazing teacher. People call asking when your classes are all the time.’

He suddenly wants to show off for you. To pull out his most amazing choreography. He wants to impress you, he realizes. He hasn’t wanted to do that in ages.

He fights a grin. You’re so open and sweet he doesn’t think you have any idea of the effect you have on him. You check him out, not the least bit discreet, and give him a mysterious smile before taking your place. Okay, maybe you have some idea, he thinks.

He greets the class in his usually succinct way, making a conscious attempt to smile more than he normally does. Yixing looks between the two of you and gives Jongin a shit-eating grin.

He rolls his eyes and avoids his friend, walking over to press play on the CD.

'All right everyone, we’re going to start off with a simple combination. Follow along with me and don’t worry if you don’t pick it up right away, we’ll do it a few times.’

He turns, facing the wide wall of mirrors. As if drawn by your energy he meets your gaze in the glass where you hover to his right.

He’s learned you wear your emotions on your sleeve. When the desk is busy you wear a broad, warm, welcoming smile that almost covers the overwhelm of many people asking questions.

This time, watching you as the opening beats of the track begin, he gets to see you be your full self again. You breathe, relaxing into the rhythm, a slight smile playing on your lips. He knows that look well, as he’s sure he wears it whenever he dances.

Like in Michelle’s class, you both look more relaxed. The world makes more sense in the studio to him, and to you as well apparently. The light streaming in through the windows, the crisp even lines of the wood floors, the endless mirrors. Even the cubbies at the back that will always smell a bit like old socks make him feel at home.

He narrates along with his movements. Beginning/Intermediate classes always draw a mixed crowd. He likes to make things as clear and easy to follow as possible for all levels while paying attention to people who need extra help.

There are people like Yixing who have experience dancing taking the class for fun. Older folks trying to stay active in retirement. Ladies groups looking for fun new workouts. Younger kids just getting started.

Once he’s finished with the first block of steps he pauses, chastising himself for the way he can’t seem to look away from you.

'That was great everyone, let’s try it a few more times before the song restarts,’ he says as the music continues.

He weaves his way through the people in attendance with you on his heels, correcting movements gently, offering encouragement. You repeat the steps for a kind-looking older man and woman. The smile you give them when they get it right is so warm and luminous he doesn’t even see Yixing until his friend snaps his fingers in Jongin’s face.

‘To quote the great philosopher Usher, my friend: You got it bad.’

Jongin glares at him and he motions for you to join him at the front again. Yixing’s soft laughter follows and he knows he’s never going to hear the end of this. 

Once the class ends he takes time saying goodbye to all the students. Even if he is a bit more reserved of a person he still wants the studio to look good. He wants people to enjoy his classes and always makes the effort.

As the last person leaves he watches you putting your coat on. For long seconds he wonders if he should speak the desire battling in his chest into existence or if it’s too soon or too awkward or too… something.

He buys time by grabbing the CD. Finally, you slip your bag over your shoulder and he comes to lean against the edge of the cubbies in what he hopes is a casual way.

‘Are you hungry?’ he mumbles.

‘What was that?’ You turn and look at him, a warmth in your expression as you regard him.

He clears his throat, trying again. ‘Sorry. Are you hungry? I’m starving and was thinking about getting something to eat at Flanagan’s, the pub in the mall.’

Pink tints your cheeks and you nod, suddenly finding an excuse to look anywhere but at him. ‘That would be perfect, I’d love to.’

He can’t help but fist pump in celebration in his mind. He coughs, composing himself. ‘Awesome, we can talk about the teacher training,’ he says with an attempt at nonchalance.

You follow him through the mall towards the Irish pub and he thanks the heavens that you work together and have plenty to talk about. Going over the class, reviewing what you learned, covering your dance background and his. It all fills the space that would exist on a normal first date.

Date? Where did that come from? he wonders over the last of his dinner. He shakes his head to clear it and has to ask you to repeat your question.

‘What are you working for?’ you say again, taking a small sip of your cider.

He tilts his head in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Aside from paying bills, what’s the goal?’ you ask with a curious look, as if you’re trying to figure him out. ‘What’s your dream?’

He takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. It’s something he’s kept locked away, hidden down deep. ‘I’d love to teach in schools. Open my own studio or something. Maybe.’

You grin at that, a dimple appearing in one of your cheeks that makes him want to kiss you. He shakes himself, continuing on at your encouragement.

‘Dance saved me. Gave me a home, a family, a purpose. I’m doing alright for myself now and I’d love to be able to do that for someone else in return. Give some other kids a safe space.’

He blushes and quickly takes a drink of his beer. ‘What about you?’

You frown, looking adorably puzzled. ‘Oh. I haven’t really thought about it. Can I have a minute to think?’

He nods and motions with his hand. ‘We’ve got plenty of time, no pressure.’

You love that about him, that he doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push.

You’ve never seen him so open and animated before. You can’t believe you used to think he was unfriendly. Around you he’s practically a teddy bear. A brooding, intense teddy bear, but a teddy bear nonetheless.

While he eats you contemplate his question.

Perhaps it came with being the baby of the family, the younger sister, that you were given the rose-colored glasses to wear. That you were shielded from a lot of harsh realities growing up.

Maybe there was tension and stress at home when you were young, but you never felt it. All you remember from the early days are laughing and dancing and family dinners.

Nights spent reading every book you could get your hands on with your sister, your cold feet touching hers under the covers of your shared bed, making her scream until you both dissolved into giggles.

Going on long walks through the trails near your apartment, watching the boats go by on the water. Your parents’ proud faces in the audience at your dance recitals.

It was all wonderful, until it wasn’t. Until the day in 1989 when your parents were caught in the crossfire of a shootout in Hilltop; the wrong place at the wrong time. The day your family went from four to two.

Where once there was family game nights and pancakes on Sunday mornings with your father between his graveyard shift at one job and his afternoon shift at another, there was your sister, younger than you are now, sitting at the dining room table trying to pinch pennies to make things work.

She’d never caved, never given into despair, at least not where you could see. And you were determined to hold yourself together for her, even if you couldn’t do so for yourself.

The two of you mourned together, scraped by with your father’s meager pension from work. She started working nights in addition to her college classes and never let you miss school or stop dancing.

At sixteen you started working the front desk at the studio you took dance classes from. Your first job, and the place where you met Michael.

Coincidentally, it was the beginning of a five year period where you started to hide everything from your sister. Out of shame, embarrassment, or some intuitive understanding that she would forbid you from seeing him if she found out what he was really like.

Now that you’re out on your own, free of the dark cloud of Michael, everything feels new. Tentative. Raw.

What do I want? The answer is so apparent to you it feels almost silly.

‘I guess… just a home. Not literally a house,’ you laugh. ‘But that would be nice. All I want is a safe place for the people I love. That’s what my parents gave my sister and I growing up and I’d like that again. I know I’m young, lots of my friends said I should want to travel or go to school or make it big dancing or something. But that’s never been the most important thing to me.’

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an intense, unreadable look that he seems to save just for you.

You feel heat come to your cheeks and take a big drink of your cider to hide your embarrassment. ‘That’s silly though. Forget I said anything,’ you mutter.

A soft pressure rests on the hand you have laying on the table and you’re shocked to see that he’s placed his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s not silly at all,’ he says softly. ‘It sounds beautiful.’

For long seconds the two of you stay like that, the attraction you feel towards him rises, surprising but not entirely unwelcome. It’s a sensation of being thrown overboard into a sea and getting lost in the waves.

‘You guys all set? It’s just about closing time,’ the waiter asks, holding the check, oblivious to the moment he’s interrupting.

You and Jongin talk over each other, fumbling for your wallets. Neither of you can look the other properly in the eye as you pay and walk to the car. What happened feels too meaningful to acknowledge in the quiet of the night.

He turns on the radio while he drives you home to fill the space as you both get lost in your thoughts. After all you’ve shared with each other tonight, it seems silly that he doesn’t know your real name.

‘Can I tell you something?’ you ask quietly when he pulls up to the apartment.

He nods, giving you a small smile. ‘You can tell me anything.’

‘Liz isn’t my real name. It’s… a nickname I’ve been going by to hide from Michael, but I guess it’s pointless now.’

When you tell him your real name he nods and pleasure colors his cheeks, as if he’s honored you trust him with it. He reaches out to briefly rest his hand on top of yours before bringing it back to rest on his thigh, always being respectful. For all his toughness and intensity, the more you get to know him the more you’re surprised by how his sweetness and kindness draw you in and make you feel safe.

‘Goodnight Jongin,’ you say quietly.

‘Goodnight.’ He repeats your name, softly, trying it out on his tongue while he holds your focus.

Finally, he blinks and settles back against the seat and you step out of the car. You can feel his eyes on you the entire walk up the steps to the front door of the complex, protecting you even if he can’t be next to you.

Tuesday February 25th, 1997

Yixing and Sehun drag Jongin from his sleeping with an early morning phone call, demanding he come work out with them.

Without any regard for his sleep-deprived state, Yixing goes right to the heart of the situation while spotting for Jongin on the bench press.

‘You like her.’ He doesn’t say it like a question, because it’s not. The look on Jongin’s face confirms it and Yixing barks out a laugh. ‘I knew it!’

Jongin sighs, resting the weight on the handles and looking up at the triumphant face of his friend. ‘I can’t like her.’

Sehun pauses in the middle of bicep curls, his brow furrowing in confusion. ‘Dude, why not?’

‘Well, we work together for one thing,’ Jongin says with a groan.

Yixing laughs. ‘I know all about that, my friend. Doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for her.’

Jongin sits up, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. ‘She also has this asshole ex who keeps showing up and harassing her, Sehun you were there. I can’t ask her out now. A, she deserves someone who just wants to take care of her without an ulterior motive. B, I have no desire to be a rebound. I like her way too much for that.’

Sehun meets Yixing’s look of victory and shakes his head with amusement.

‘Look, man. All I’m saying is you’ve been single forever. You are absolutely not a creep taking advantage of her. And if she does put you in the rebound zone, that’s her loss,’ Sehun says.

Jongin opens his mouth to object but Yixing cuts him off, raising his hands in surrender. ‘You two seem to get along, that’s all we’re saying. It’s worth a shot right? When are you seeing her again?’

‘I see her pretty much everyday. I either walk her and her sister to her car or I drive her home when her sister has school stuff to do.’

Sehun makes a noise of frustration. ‘Bro, just invite her to Shari’s next time we all go. She’ll realize you have excellent taste in friends. You can charm her with your dancing. She’ll want to jump your bones. Foolproof plan.’

Yixing shoves Sehun playfully in the shoulder. ‘Arrogance aside, he’s right. Shari’s is perfect. Casual, fun, cool.’

‘Right. Casual. Sure,’ Jongin sighs and resumes his workout.

Thursday March 6th, 1997

While he waits for you to finish your closing tasks he walks around the parking lot. He slides his hands into his pockets, staring up at the night sky. It’s finally starting to become warm enough to function without a thick jacket.

His friend’s words run through his mind, urging him to ask you out. But he laughs to himself, thinking how that’s not his way. With dancing and success, sure, he can work his ass off, push himself to be the best.

But even though his friends always tell him girls are falling over themselves to be with him, he’s never felt confident in that way. Or even really interested. Before you.

He loves his body, loves what it does and what it lets him express through movement. He’ll even admit that he finds it aesthetically pleasing, toned in the right places and well-proportioned.

But he’s always felt that beauty has nothing to do with appearance. Want, attraction, and desire for him live in motion. In what someone does, how they treat others, how they move through life. Who they are beneath the skin.

He sighs. If only he could dance to show you how he feels. Maybe he’ll get a chance to, tomorrow night.

The sound of the bell tinkling and the door closing makes him turn around.

‘Hey, you ready?’ you ask, smiling at him.

‘Yeah, absolutely,’ he says, hitting the light switch in the office and following you out the door.

He watches you while you walk to his car, when he thinks you won’t see. Tonight he lets himself wonder what it would be like if you were his, fully. Officially. What it would be like if he was the one who got to wake up beside you. Go to sleep next to you. And everything in between.

He’s noticed that your eyes dart around the parking lot less frequently now that it’s been a few weeks since Michael showed up. He takes it as reassurance that the field is clear, so to speak.

He struggles to find words, never his strong suit, and the warmth in your eyes when you look at him makes the limited ones he has scatter from his mind.

‘The stars are nice tonight,’ you supply, glancing up and grinning.

‘It always surprises me how you can still see them in Seattle, even in the city.’

You slide into the car and he follows, managing to find his bravery. ‘Do you want to go to Shari’s with me tomorrow?’

‘Sharis?’

He lets out his nerves as a quiet laugh. ‘Sorry, it’s a dance club nearby. Me and Sehun and some of our other friends go sometimes. Baekhyun over at the movie theater decided that the weather is finally decent enough for us all to come out of our shells. I’d love it if you joined us. It should be fun.’

The smile you give him makes his palms sweat. ‘Absolutely, that sounds fantastic!’

Friday, March 7th, 1997

You’re unable to convince your sister to come with you to the club, she pleads out saying she’d love to but she’s swamped by course work. She somehow managed to get the school to let her finish up her last two quarters from a distance at the Seattle location.

Your roommate is coming from a mixer for her internship, but she’s meeting you in a while at the club. Once, you might have been nervous to go in alone, but you know that Jongin will be inside somewhere, waiting for you.

How lovely it is, to be wanted by someone you want, you think. Someone good and honest and real. You remember the way Jongin checked you out yesterday, asked you here tonight, somehow both confident and unsure. It feels like you’re glowing from within.

‘You think he wants you for anything other than sex, dumb bitch. That dress is short enough, you’re clearly asking for it.’

Michael’s voice is so loud and harsh in your mind that you spin on the street in search of him. But there’s no sign of him. You frown, upset that his presence still clouds your thoughts.

Once and for all you wish you could be free of him. As with anything in life, you tell yourself it will get easier with time. With a deep fortifying breath you shake it off and stride right up to the gleaming black wood doors.

The bass of the club isn’t just something you can hear, standing outside the front doors nervously fixing your dress, it’s something you can feel. The club seems to pulse with energy in the chilly night.

Finally, you can’t procrastinate any longer and push through the doors of the club. The bouncer is a man at least three times your size with two full sleeves of tattoos, showcased by the tank top he wears. With a nod he hands your ID back to you and waves you through.

Salt-N-Pepa thumps from the speakers on the dance floor and you immediately notice it’s packed to the brim with people dancing. You look around and don’t see anyone familiar, but then a tall head catches your attention.

Sehun turns and waves to you, his normally stern face breaking into a warm smile. He nudges someone next to him and Jongin appears from the mass of bodies.

His normal casual street style is swapped tonight for a pair of close-fitting black pants, a fitted white shirt, and a long gold cross earring you’ve never seen before. His messy hair is brushed back out of his face.

He walks over to you with heat in his eyes, taking in your curves, showed off by the purple dress you’re wearing tonight.

Once he reaches you the sheen of sweat on his neck becomes visible and the spicy smell of his cologne warms you. He leans to you and his breath cascades along your shoulder, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

‘Hey, you made it!’ he calls over the chorus of ‘Whatta Man.’

‘I did!’ you say, resisting the urge to touch him or lick his neck or something equally insane.

The way he discreetly checks out your legs and cleavage lets you know that his thoughts are along the same line. ‘Come on, you can put your stuff at the table.’

You nod and he ghosts a hand along your low back to guide you towards a table in the corner where you recognize some other people from the mall. Jongin takes your purse and adds it to the cluster of them at the back of the booth.

He introduces you to Baekhyun, Hitchcock, Yixing, and two other men, one tall and one shorter, whose names you don’t catch as they’re deep in a discussion about ‘a pop/punk revival of epic proportions.’

You grab drinks at the bar, laughing as you talk about the wild pair of high school boys who came to class this week. Once you’re finished, you and Jongin both look at the dance floor eagerly.

‘Do you want to dance?’ Jongin asks, clearly alive in this atmosphere.

You’d say yes to anything right now, even if he asked you to jump into the sun. When you nod he wraps his hand tentatively around yours, waiting for you to squeeze back before he grins and guides you to the floor.

He moves around you as the song ends, an intensity and focus in his eyes you’re finally starting to understand he saves just for you. It ignites something deep in your chest that makes you see visions of his teeth on your neck, his hands on your thighs, sliding up underneath your dress. You whine and blessedly the sound is lost in the noise of the club.

Abruptly you laugh, shaking your head. Has it been so long that you forgot what clubs do to you? Or is it just the effect that Jongin has? Either way, when the next song begins you don’t know whether to curse the Universe or blow it kisses in thanks.

When ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine starts people around you cheer and move closer together. The DJ at the booth looks out on the crowd, a firm line to his brows and a faint smile on his lips. He seems to ride the enthusiasm of the crowd. It certainly feels like it’s suddenly hotter in the room when Jongin steps into your space tentatively.

He watches you hungrily, waiting for your lead; looking both ready to consume you and ready to step back if you gave the slightest sign you didn’t want him to touch you. Something tight and afraid in your chest melts and you nod at him, moving closer in return and answering his silent question.

Neither of you need words, it’s far too loud in here to understand each other anyways. The magnetic pull between you two finally draws tighter and his hands gently settle on your hips at the same moment yours grasp his shoulders.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been in the same classes for weeks, keenly aware of each other’s bodies. Maybe it’s the fact that the two of you are clearly attracted to each other. Or maybe it’s the song itself. Whatever the reason, you and Jongin find your rhythm fast and easy, moving together to the beat.

You want to sink into him, to slide your hands under the collar of his shirt and touch the muscles of his back. He makes you feel both safe and wild does things to you that you never felt with Michael. His thumbs press into the sensitive flesh of your hips and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

For the entirety of your relationship with Michael he felt like a predator, stalking you, laying claim to you. You never felt a desire to claim him in return, to choose him. Only in hindsight are you realizing how messed up that was, to only be an object to someone, a prize to be won like Jasmine in Aladdin. 

You pull back to look at Jongin and can’t help the broad smile you give him. With him, you’re definitely not just prey to be captured, though he seems more than willing to lay chase.

You’re not just the mouse. Tonight, with him, you’re also the cat, and you’re ready to pursue him as well. 

Turning in his arms you move and press your back to his solid chest. He picks up right where you left off, his strong hands grasping your hips and finding the rhythm again. 

As the song goes on you relax into the bass of the beat, reveling in the sensation of being in his embrace. Feeling bold, you reach an arm up to hold onto his neck, pulling yourself flush against him. He doesn’t entirely manage to stifle the groan he makes and you bite your lip around your smile.

Sometime in between dancing to ‘No Diggity’ by Blackstreet and ‘Ready or Not’ by the Fugees the two of you grab another drink.

Standing at the bar, listening to Baekhyun tell some dramatic story, the only thing you can focus on is the way Jongin’s fingers toy with the skin of your hip. All you can feel through the thin fabric is heat and that desire low in your body feels like it reaches a fever pitch.

By the time your roommate arrives, looking like an Empress in a gold dress that is both classy and sexy, you’re absolutely feeling yourself. You wave to her and mouth to Jongin that you’re going to go talk to her. 

He nods and brushes his sweaty hair off his forehead, motioning towards the groups table with a nod. You can’t help but admire him as he walks away.

‘So it’s going well?’ your roommate asks in your ear, startling you.

She laughs, knowing full well that she just caught you checking him out. ‘Let’s get a drink!’ She links her arm through yours and pulls you to the bar.

The two of you find stools on the far end where it’s quieter and she fills you in on her internship mixer - boring - and you tell her about your night - decidedly not boring. She looks to the table the mall folks are occupying and stifles a laugh.

‘Girl, the way he’s watching you…’ she raises her eyebrows knowingly.

‘I know. I’m - I don’t know, I really, really like him. And I almost licked his neck while we were dancing so umm I’m clearly not opposed,’ you say. When you look at the table Jongin is laughing against Sehun’s shoulder and your heart does that melty thing again.

‘But…’ she prods. She’s heard the full saga of you and Michael and in the last few weeks she’s become one of your closest friends. ‘What’s holding you back?’

You run your hands through your hair and sigh. ‘I just ended things with my ex a few weeks ago. This whole thing with Jongin is… amazing. Wonderful. Electric. But it feels too real to rush into it when I’m still so fresh off of… you know. We were together for years, and I was so young.’

‘If you’re not ready, just tell him. He sounds like the kind of guy who would understand,’ she says.

The alcohol makes you both bold and cautious. Your mind and body want different things. One wants space to think, the other wants to rip off Jongin’s clothes and press yourself against him until there’s no space between you two.

‘I’ll figure it out,’ you sigh and finish your drink.

She pats your shoulder in amusement and downs the last of her drink as well. You walk her over to the table to introduce her to the rest of the group and it turns out that she and Hitchcock took a class together a few years ago at UW.

While they catch up Jongin reaches for your hand, rubbing your palm. He motions to the dance floor and raises a brow. You nod and smile at him, squeezing back.

When you resume your positions - his hands holding your thighs, your arms around his neck - he moves in closer, resting his forehead against yours. He draws his lip between his teeth to chew on, as if deciding something. You watch the motion and want to whine at the intensity of your attraction to him.

He watches you closely. You can feel his warm breath across your lips. When he reaches a hand to cup your cheek he bends closer. Something inside you commands you to stop him. A sense that this wouldn’t be right yet.

Gently, you lift your hands to his shoulders and ease him back. ‘Jongin, you have no idea how much I want to be with you.’ You call over the music, holding his gaze so he can see how much you mean it. ‘How much I want to kiss you right now.’

His brows pull together, his thumb stroking your cheek seemingly against his intention. ‘I’m sensing a but here.’

You take his hand in yours and pull him towards the hallway that leads to the bathroom. He puts himself between you and the club, protecting you like always. Now it’s your turn to protect him.

‘I can’t ask you to wait for me, but I need some time,’ you start. ‘I just want to stand on my own two feet for a while. You met Michael, you saw what he was like. He took over my entire life.’ His expression turns sharp at the mention of Michael.

‘I need to separate out what parts of me belonged to him and what’s truly me. I spent so long defining myself by what he wanted I just - I want to know who I am first. Can you understand that?’

He nods, his expression softening. This time when he gently cups your face he presses a kiss to your forehead, so softly you can barely feel it. But oh, do you feel it.

You hold onto his arms and pull back to look him dead in the eyes, needing to make sure he understands what you’re saying. ‘I want to make sure I’m completely myself, I want to be able to give you all of me. It feels really important.’

The corner of his mouth lifts and his eyes are warm when he meets yours. Gently, he takes your hands in his. For long seconds he simply watches you, smile blooming into a grin as he rubs his thumbs over your palms.

As surely as Michael did, you feel him claiming you. Not with aggression and words and possessiveness, but with a tenderness that warms you from your toes to the tip of your head.

He lifts them to his lips, not breaking eye contact as he presses a kiss to each palm. Warmth of a different kind blooms between your legs as the heat in his eyes turns mischievous for a beat before turning sincere.

‘I’m a patient man. I’m here if you need, however you need. I care about you, this doesn’t have to be romantic unless you want it to be.’

‘Thank you, Jongin. I’m so happy to have you in my life,’ you say.

You lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, heart melting as his cheeks turn pink. He leads you back to the group and you sigh with relief. Now I just have to figure out who I am. Fantastic, you think.

Wednesday April 2nd, 1997

It happens as you and Jongin are leaving his class one night. Spring has finally arrived in the Northwest and you’re happy, laughing at some joke Jongin told you.

Neither of you are prepared for Michael appearing from behind the large dumpsters next to the employee parking. One moment you’re enjoying the satisfying post-exercise glow and admiring the way Jongin’s hair looks when it’s sweaty and pushed off his forehead, and the next you’re screaming in alarm as the two of them fall to the ground.

Jongin grunts as he slams to the concrete, rolling to the side in an attempt to get Michael off of him. If he wasn’t wearing his signature patched leather jacket you’d hardly have recognized him - hair unkempt, beard scraggly, a wild look in his eyes that frightens you.

The first punch Michael swings hits Jongin’s shoulder. It forces you out of your shock and into action. You yell for help. Luckily it’s a busy night and two women you recognize from the bookstore are walking by.

‘We’ll get security!’ one of them calls out as they rush off towards the mall. A few other people linger nearby, unsure if or how to intervene.

Jongin’s quick reflexes help him dodge Michael’s wild blows and they land on the concrete. It must bruise and scrape his hands, but in the state he’s in he hardly seems to notice.

You get closer, horribly afraid Michael will hurt Jongin seriously. He’s so unpredictable, especially on drugs, that he could have a knife or even a gun on him. Finally, he leans to the side to pull back for another punch and you dart forward.

Grabbing the back of his jacket you pull to the side with all your might, attempting to throw him off. ‘Michael, stop it! Get off him!’

He bends back further, twisting so his arm swings toward you and catches you in the stomach. You grunt and stagger backwards.

‘Stay the fuck out of this. He needs to know you’re mine.’ He says last word on a growl.

You pull out the thick teacher training binder from your bag, prepared to smack him upside the head, when you hear someone call ‘Hey!’ from behind you.

Two of the men who work at the pizza parlor are running over. The taller man, Chanyeol, you think, lunges for Michael with no hesitation. His height and strength allow him to do what you couldn’t and he pulls Michael to the side and onto the concrete. A shorter man with a strong brow follows behind Chanyeol, reaching to hold Michael’s arm back while Chanyeol holds his legs.

You hear them arguing and grunting and turn your attention to Jongin.

You bend down next to him, wincing at the pain in your side. ‘Oh my God, are you okay?’

Jongin nods, sitting up with a grimace. ‘I’ll be fine, he’s so hyped out on whatever he took that his aim was awful. Did he get you?’ He reaches a hand to cup your jaw, concern in his eyes.

You reach for a napkin from your bag to press to the cut in Jongin’s forehead. ‘He did, but it’s fine. It’s not too -’

‘Dale, get the cuffs,’ an assertive voice calls from behind you.

You and Jongin watch as Dale, Leeteuk, and another security officer help the two men from Barada. They manage to get Michael into handcuffs and drag him off towards the mall.

‘When you’re up for it tonight come to the office and we’ll take your statements,’ Leeteuk says when he passes you and Jongin.

You both nod. The ache in your abdomen is sharp and you focus on breathing deeply. Even after he disappears inside you can still hear Michael’s frantic, wild voice yelling.

Chanyeol sighs, dusting off his hands and shaking his head. He comes over and helps Jongin stand. ‘You alright man? What the hell was that? Soo and I were coming back from a meeting and Mel passed us yelling her head off about Jongin being attacked in the parking lot.’

You stand and wrap your arms around yourself, hating the entire situation, feeling miserable. Jongin takes a few steps, wincing and reaching a hand for his probably bruised hip. He brings his other arm around you and pulls you against him gently.

‘Her ex boyfriend. Real piece of work. Thanks for being there Chan, that guy was out of control.’

‘No problem, I know you’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.’

The shorter man looks at you and Jongin. ‘You guys okay? Anything we can do to help?’

Jongin looks at you and you shake your head. ‘No, but thanks Soo,’ he says, patting his shoulder.

The crowd that had gathered breaks us as everyone heads back towards the mall or their cars. You and Jongin support each other and walk back into KOKO.

Paige looks up when you enter and gasps. ‘What happened?’ She moves around the desk and supports Jongin on his other side. The two of you get him into a chair in her office.

‘Michael happened.’ Jongin lets out a small groan as he sinks into the seat.

She purses her lips. ‘Did security come?’

‘Yeah, Leeteuk and Dale were there. After we get ourselves sorted we’re going to make a statement.’

You duck your head, running an anxious hand across your forehead. Sadness, frustration, dread all fill your mind but guilt takes center stage as you sneak a look at the blood on Jongin’s forehead.

‘I’ll leave you two to rest, but I’m just out here if you need me,’ Paige says with concern. ‘There’s a first aid kit in the top right drawer of the cabinet behind you.’

When the door shuts you push down your emotions and stand to get the kit. Jongin waits for you to pull the chair around, waits while you open the white box and take out a medicated wipe to clean off the blood. He patiently waits until you finish putting a bandage on the cut and finally look him in the eye before he speaks.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks quietly.

You nod, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. ‘I’m fine, I just feel awful. Jongin, I’m so sorry. He had no right and I couldn’t get him off you and -’

He cuts you off by leaning forward and wrapping his arms around you. You rest your forehead on his shoulder and cry, letting the stress and emotion work its way out of you. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘You’ll probably want nothing to do with me now,’ you mumble against the fabric of his shirt.

He pulls back and brushes your hair behind your ears. ‘No, don’t do that. Don’t you take on what he did. That’s on him. Not you. You’re not responsible for him.’

When you don’t speak he carries on. ‘Do you really think anything could scare me away from you? Even if we’re not dating, we’re still friends, right?’

You nod. ‘Okay, fine. But I’m still going to feel awful about this for the next hmm, twenty years or so.’

He laughs and wipes off your tears with his thumbs. ‘And I’ll be right there to tell you that just because your ex is a psycho, it’s not your fault.’ When you open your mouth to object he stands. ‘No buts. Now let’s get this over with at security, I’m sure we could both use dinner.’

You laugh. ‘Okay, you’re right, I’m starving. And I definitely need a long, hot shower tonight.’

He leads the way out of the office, favoring one of his legs with a good-natured wince. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Tuesday June 21st, 1997

Against all odds, life resumes its normal flow. Days are filled with classes, working at the desk, continuing teacher training, and settling into the group of friends you’ve made at the mall.

Even though Leeteuk said that Michael would serve a minimum of six months for his assault charge, there is always the threat that he’ll be out earlier for good behavior. But you’re determined to move on, throwing yourself into building a life free of him.

Your roommate and Hitchcock introduce you to the many incredible vintage stores downtown. Shari’s becomes a regular hangout during the Spring and on into the Summer. You and your sister discover a quiet cafe inside an indie bookstore with a view of the water and try to spend a morning a week there, reading together.

Work is steady and enjoyable. You love the balance between working with customers and organizing the paperwork. Between working with Michelle and Jongin and Jennifer, the ballet teacher, Paige thinks you’ll be ready to start teaching on your own in the fall.

And then there’s Jongin, the dominant figure in your life the past few months. There’s hardly a day you aren’t together between work and dinners and nights out dancing and movie nights with the group. You know he’s waiting patiently to see how you’re feeling, but like always he doesn’t push you, content to just be with you.

Your sister joins you for lunch on a break between her classes after stopping in to say hi to the kids at the daycare. When you’re sitting down eating your slices of pizza, she strikes.

‘So, when are you going to tell Jongin you’re in love with him?’ she asks, making you choke on your sip of Diet Coke.

‘Excuse me?’ you say between coughs.

She thumps your back twice to help. ‘I didn’t mean to kill you, sorry. I just -’ she waves her hands in the air. ‘I know you’re on Self-Discovery Quest 97 and all, which of course I fully support. I’m your sister, I love you. You know I’d support you through anything. But literally you look at him like you want to jump into his arms and kiss him for the next century every time you’re together.’

You wince and take another enormous bite of pizza. ‘Is it that obvious?’ you ask around a full mouth.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘It’s clear you both want to be together. Any you’re well on your way to figuring out what you want. I’m just wondering why you’re forcing yourself to hold back? I’m your sister, you know you can tell me anything.’

You let out a sigh. ‘Do you know what Michelle’s theme was for today’s class?’

She shakes her head and you carry on. ‘It was desire. And the way Jongin looked at me… the way I was absolutely, probably, looking at him? It scares me.’

‘Why?’

‘What if it’s like Michael? What if I give everything to him and it turns bad? What if I lose myself again?’ you ask frantically. ‘This would hurt even worse. Sure, I liked Tacoma and the studio, but here feels like home. Seattle, the mall, KOKO. What if being together ruins what we have now?’

‘First off - he’s not Michael. There was always something off about that boy, I just had no idea it was as bad as it was,’ she says, guilt on her features. ‘But Jongin is sincere. He loves you too, I’m certain of it.’

‘How do you know?’

She smiles, looking nostalgic. ‘Because he shows it with his actions, not just his words. Has he ever hurt you? Betrayed you? Done anything other than proved to you he wants you?’

You think back to everything that’s passed between the two of you. He gave you support, space, protection, encouragement. She’s right. He’s done nothing but prove himself to be a good man.

‘No. He’s perfect. I want him so badly, in every way.’

‘He clearly chooses you, sis. All you have to do if you want him is be brave enough to trust him and choose him back,’ she says quietly. ‘It’s the easiest and the hardest thing in the world to do.’

‘When did you get so wise? Does it have anything to do with that dad you keep hanging out with?’ you tease, enjoying the blush on her cheeks when she looks towards the antiques shop.

She makes an X with her arms. ‘Oh no, we are not talking about me right now. This is about you,’ she says, standing. ‘And the fact that you need to tell Jongin you’re in love with him.’

She throws her napkin at you and you laugh, tossing yours at her in return and standing to chase her around the table.

Wednesday July 2nd, 1997

At Baekhyun’s pre-Fourth of July party Jongin waits for you in the kitchen. He pours drinks and listens to Baekhyun’s stories, saving the girl from the jewelry store from his friend’s overly enthusiastic yelling.

He thinks to himself that she’s very nice, but clearly in love with Chanyeol. When the man in question comes into the kitchen they share a look so full of passion and longing he wants to snort into his beer and say ‘been there, friends.’

Instead he turns around to get another drink and almost runs into your sister. ‘Hey, how’s it going? Are you looking for Jun? I think he’s around here somewhere,’ he says.

She waves him off and fixes him with her best stern look. ‘No, I’m here to give you the talk.’

‘The talk?’ he asks, raising a brow.

She blows a strand of hair off her face and smothers a laugh. ‘Look, I’m her sister, not her parent. I haven’t done this before, so bear with me.’

He frowns in confusion. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Did something happen? Is she okay?’

She reaches a hand to his shoulder to reassure him. ‘Oh, she’s fine. Trust me. I just - go with me on this sitcom moment here. I like you Jongin. I think you’re a good man and I trust you.’

‘Thank you,’ he nods, pleased. He waves her on.

‘I’m trusting you with the person most important to me in the world, okay? If you hurt her I’ll - well, I don’t know. I’m opposed to violence, but I’ll think of something,’ she laughs. ‘Just… please treat her well. I know you will, I just need you to say it.’

He runs a hand along his neck. ‘Trust me, all I want is to love her and keep her safe. She deserves the world and for all her dreams to come true. I want to give that to her. But.. we’re just friends right now, I think. Unless she’s said something to you?’

She looks satisfied and nods, holding out a hand officially for him to shake. ‘Thank you Jongin.’ A moment later she nods to something behind him. ‘As for the second part, you’ll find out very soon I imagine.’

He turns and sees you standing at the entrance, holding your hands nervously and looking around the party. He turns, saluting your sister with his cup, and walks over to you.

It never fails to set his heart and skin alight when you turn your attention to him. The way you brighten at his presence would be enough to last him his entire life. But he has a feeling that he might get even more of you tonight.

‘Hi,’ you say brightly.

‘Hey yourself, want a drink?’

You exhale deeply, biting your lip. ‘Not right now. Could we go talk? Outside maybe?’

‘Sure, lead the way your highness,’ he teases, earning him an amused look.

The two of you head into Baekhyun’s backyard, surrounded by trees. The warm red painted deck is strung up with twinkly lights that you both know is the work of Hitchcock, not the man himself. He follows you to the side of the house by the large Evergreen tree.

Before he can ask what’s up, you speak. ‘Do you want to go watch the fireworks at the mall with me?’

He blinks. ‘Umm, I thought we already were going? All of us, roof of the mall, eight o’clock? You and I are bringing the mixers.’

You look torn, a million emotions flying through your expression and something in him tells him to be patient. After a minute you step closer, resting your hands lightly on his arms. He takes a step back until he’s leaning against the house, watching you intently.

When you look up at him your expression is resolved, fixed on him in a way it never has before. ‘I don’t just mean as friends Jongin. As… more.’

He tentatively reaches for your hips, feeling like his hands belong there. ‘Are you sure?’

You smile up at him and time stops. He resists the urge to pick you up and capture your lips with his. Barely.

‘Yes, I’m sure. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the space you gave me,’ you say. ‘I finally feel like me. When Michelle asked us to think about what we wanted today, I thought about many things. But mostly I thought about you.’

He grins, feeling the urge to beat his chest and roar with triumph. ‘Okay, then. I’d love to go with you to the fireworks as… more.’

‘Excellent,’ you say, swaying towards him.

It feels like the universe gives you a push. In one breath you’re standing toe to toe with him against the house. In the next you’ve pressed yourself against him, stepped between his legs to form your body to his. Soft meeting hard, need against need.

His arms wrap around your waist with a sigh and your hands find their way into his hair. For long moments you lean into him, body relaxing even as your heart is hammering in your chest.

He breathes with you, warm air trailing along the skin of your shoulder. You smile against him, your cheek pressed to his. How can one man make you so excited that you feel like you’re flying, but also calm your heart and make you feel safer than you’ve ever felt before?

Eventually you pull back and marvel at him. The way the wind moves his hair across his forehead. You ruffle it up and he laughs, a warm sound.

Emboldened by your touch he lifts a hand to trace the line of your face, trailing his fingers your cheek and along your jaw. His thumb rubs lightly against your lower lip and your mouth opens, already hungry for him but in no rush to end this moment.

The two of you have been dancing around each other for months, literally and figuratively, and now that the time is finally here for you to know what it’s like to kiss him you’re suddenly worried it won’t live up to your imagination. What if you’re a terrible kisser? What if you have no chemistry together?

As you look into his warm brown eyes, lit up by the strands of lights around the backyard, any doubts fall away. A half-smile plays on his lips and suddenly you can’t help it anymore - you cup his face with both your hands and press your lips against his.

He groans against you, half in relief and half in what sounds like pleasure. 

Easily he picks up after your first move. Like he was born to know your body he runs a hand down your side, leaving heat in his wake and finding a home on your hip, anchoring you to him. With his other he holds your jaw delicately, his broad hand dragging along the delicate skin of your neck.

When he moves, sliding his lips across yours, you can’t remember a single other thing. Just like his hands his mouth is hot, sensual, and just a little rough. The sheer intensity radiating off of him is a match striking the passion inside you.

Suddenly, you can’t get close enough. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling. His hand strokes along the barely covered skin of your lower back making you keenly aware of the need pooling low in your body. His tongue darts out to taste the seam of your lips.

With a groan, you open for him. Your mouth, your body, your heart belongs to him. And he knows it, given the possessive way he holds you, claims you with his tongue and his hands. Lost in sensation, giddy at the fact that you’re finally both here and ready, you think to yourself that the earth could cease to be and you’d hardly notice.

His leg slides between yours, grinding itself teasingly against your sensitive core, and you pull back on a gasp to look at him. His lips are red and his tongue swipes along his bottom lip.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you so badly,’ he whispers. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard, full of need.

‘Thank you for waiting for me.’ You lean your forehead against his, running your hands along his shoulders, his arms.

He nods, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. ‘I’d wait forever for you. But I’m delighted to finally get to be yours.’

His words crack your heart open with fierce pleasure. You know he’ll never lie to you, push you to do things you don’t want to or expect you to be anything but who you are. Tears form at the corners of your eyes and you press your mouth to his again. Softer this time; deeper, sweeter.

If the first kiss was his claiming of your heart, this one is a kiss of discovery of something you feel like you’ve always known. 

As he cradles you against him, tucked against his body and held by his strong hands, you realize that you don’t need to claim him. He’s always been yours, since the first moment you saw each other perhaps.

You smile into the kiss. When you sigh into his open mouth, pressing gently against the firm muscle of his legs, the real world suddenly intrudes.

‘Sis, where are you? Helloooo?’ comes your sister’s voice from the backyard.

You laugh, giddy. Jongin’s an adorable mess, hair askew, lips red, shirt half-untucked. You’re sure you’re just as bad. 

You cling to his shoulders, laughing against him. ‘Coming!’ you call out.

Friday July 4th, 1997

Twilight falls on Seattle, lighting up the city as darkness descends. The setting Summer sun illuminates the Cascades and you gasp, exuberant at the gorgeous sight from the rooftop. It also doesn’t hurt that the man you love stands behind you.

Jongin glows tonight, a lightness and a joy seem to spill from him. He steps away to help Baekhyun set up the keg, smiling so much his eyes disappear and crinkles form in the corners. He darts back to press a kiss to your head first and you grin.

You all pass the time until the fireworks start with games. Sehun loses at Never Have I Ever and has to do the Macarena for a solid minute. He’s saved by the sound of explosions and splashes of color across the sky.

The fireworks from the Space Needle make you swoon. They light up all the buildings downtown and reflect across Lake Washington. Jongin holds you against him, hands on your waist. You rest your hands over his and turn to look up at him.

The fireworks are reflected in his eyes and your heart feels like it explodes as well. ‘I love you Jongin,’ you say, unable to keep it in.

He grins at you, eyes wide with feeling, looking for all the world like a star brought down to earth. ‘I love you too.’

You spin in his arms and practically launch yourself at him. He catches you easily and holds you while you kiss him with vigor. The group of friends around you whoops and cheers. 

‘Get a room!’ Baekhyun teases.

‘Want to go somewhere more… private?’ Jongin asks against your lips, laughing.

You nod, unable to stop the blissed-out smile you give him. He finds your coats and you grab your purse, waving goodbye to the group. 

The moment the door to the rooftop closes Jongin pulls you into his arms again, pressing you against the wall and kissing down your neck. His hands trail heat along your arms, your side, settling on your hips.

‘Please don’t be gentle with me tonight,’ you plead against his shoulder, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘As you wish,’ he growls against your skin. 

He bends and slides his hands to cup your ass. In one fluid motions he pulls you into his arms and holds you against the wall with his hips. He slides his teeth along the skin of your neck and lets out a groan.

You cling to him while he walks down the blessedly empty stairwell through the mall. While he walks you kiss along his jaw, teasing the flesh behind his ear. That makes his hands tighten on your ass, so you repeat the motion on the other side.

He reluctantly sets you down when you reach the door to the mall. The heat in his eyes lets you know this night is far from over and you thank the heavens. You hold his hand in yours and dash across the dark space. 

The light from the fireworks is visible through the domed, glass ceiling and your footsteps echo in the wide open space.

You fumble for your key to the studio in your bag, Jongin’s heavy breathing against your ear makes it hard to think. He chuckles and presses his mouth to your shoulder, smiling against the skin there. You smile in response, feeling lighter than air as you finally locate the key and unlock the door. He guides you inside.

Both of you head for your favorite corner studio at the back. When you open the door much of the window is blocked by the greenery that lines the mall’s sidewalk, but plenty of light spills in from the streetlights.

You cup his face in your hands and pull him to you, slanting your lips against his. He reaches for you again, mouth hungry against yours, but you move and hold his hands. You take a step back and raise a brow at him.

‘Sit here for me, will you?’ you ask, voice low and thick with arousal.

He nods, taking a steadying breath and running his hands through his hair. He crosses his legs and spreads out on the floor with his back against the mirrored wall. His arousal is evident and straining against his jeans, even in the low light, as he stretches his legs out. But like always, he waits, watches, gives you the space you need.

Before you lose your nerve you kick off your heels and pull the clip holding up your hair. The weight of it settles on your shoulders, teasing the bare skin of your shoulders revealed by your dress. 

You wish there was music to make you brave, to ground you. But you breathe and focus on Jongin to steady your nerves. His appraisal is all the aphrodisiac you need.

You approach him, coming to stand with your toes touching his stretched out heels. Emboldened by the heat and need running through your veins you reach down for the edge of your dress. Once it’s over your head you toss it to the side and look around.

It would have terrified you, intimidated you, to see yourself reflected on every wall of the room. Once, an eternity ago, you would have folded in upon yourself; tried to disappear at the sheer intensity and love coming from his eyes as he takes you in.

You lower your lashes for a beat, staring at the floor. For long breaths you savor the magic of being in love with this man, the way his consistent attention and never-fading sincerity make you feel safe and held.

Your mouth tugs slowly back into a smile when you meet his gaze once more. This time, as you lift your hands to tug off your bra your motions are sure, decided.

He takes in every inch of exposed flesh reverently, like he’s looking at the finest art he’s ever seen. Unable to hold himself back, he reaches for your bare calves, easing you closer to him. The first soft kiss he presses to your thigh makes you shiver. The second makes you moan and reach for his hair to steady yourself.

He looks up at your face for hints of hesitation. 'Do you want this? Do you want me?’ his voice cracks on the last syllable, a vulnerability of his own that slips out with the force of his longing.

You know in your bones that he’d wait forever for you. He’d never pressure or coerce. He’ll never take more from you than you’re hoping to give. Emotion rises in you as you stand there, sliding your hands to cup his face while he resumes his path in learning your body. Giving you time.

Even though he’s never been inside of you, you already know that he’ll always leave you fuller than before. His lips ghost along the exposed skin of your knee. You know that every time with him will leave you raw and seen.

Every time with him will be a miracle, you think. But this first time your need is so strong it feels like a wildfire will overtake you. If there’s one thing you want to hold onto from this it’s the way his hands shake slightly as they slide up to your hips.

You smile and sit down, straddling his lap, clad in only your underwear. 'Yes. Jongin, please. I want all of you,’ you say and press a kiss to his temple.

He seems to feel it too, the way tonight will be a joining together. Not a taking, like with Michael. No, tonight will be a an etching of your name into his heart, his bones, his blood and his into yours.

He pulls back and you think you’ve never seen anyone shine brighter than the sun, even in this darkened room. His hands slide up your waist until his thumbs caress the undersides of your breasts and you let out a moan.

‘You and me? Officially?’ he says, unable to contain the bright, slightly smug grin that comes to his lips.

‘Yes.’ You hold his jaw in your hands, pressing a possessive kiss to his lips.

‘You.’ A kiss to his cheek that makes his eyes drift close.

‘Me.’ A slide of your lips against his neck that earns you a groan.

‘For real.’ When you find the pulse point behind his ear his hands dig into the flesh of your hips. 

You squeal as he pulls you flush against him. ‘Thank you for waiting for me,’ you whisper against his lips. You pull back and he’s watching you with a softness on his expression.

‘I would have waited forever for you.’ He brushes the hair off your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. ‘Thank God the wait is over though.’

He pulls you against him and stands, kissing along your neck and walking towards the stack of yoga mats. You squeal and hold onto him. ‘Agreed.’

Monday September 1st, 1997

You’re in the break room when the sound of gunfire comes from the direction of the mall. Other people might have mistaken it for a car backfiring or something similar, but instantly you know what it means.

Far enough away they sound muted by the distance. Close enough they make your hands shake. The hair on your arms stands on end and a sick feeling grows in your gut.

You set down your sandwich and dart cautiously down the hallway. Heads pop out of classrooms and studios and you motion for everyone to stay in their rooms.

‘It’s coming from the out there, stay inside and turn the lights off,’ you call to Michelle as you pass her by. She nods, her eyes alert.

Jongin meets you coming down the hallway, his bag still on his shoulder and his eyes wild with fear until they land on you. ‘Oh thank god.’

‘Is Paige-’ you start, clasping your hand in his and peeking around the corner into the front desk.

‘She called security as soon as we heard it. She’s safe, don’t worry,’ he answers, squeezing your hand.

‘I have an awful feeling about this,’ you start, voice barely above a whisper.

He holds you around the waist, solid and comforting. The two of you look through the glass doors that lead out into the mall. Dale, Leeteuk, and several other security officers dart past. The uproar seems to be centered on the jewelry store at the far end.

He pulls you fully into his arms, holding you close enough to him that you can feel his heart beating where your chests are pressed together. With an anxious sigh you bury your head in the warm skin of his neck, breathing, waiting.

After a minute the sound of gunfire comes again and you look up, the sound of shouting echoing through the mall. Three police officers work their way through the crowd of people that surround the store. 

Dale emerges after a beat, pulling a man in handcuffs. Dark hair, dark sweatshirt, unmistakable expression on his angry face.

The horrible feeling in your gut spreads through your body, engulfing you. ‘Oh my god.’

Jongin follows your look and his mouth tightens into a line at seeing Michael. He rubs your shoulders comfortingly, his eyes warm and sympathetic. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe.’

Fear chokes you. ‘Jongin, what if he hurt someone. It’s all my faul-’

His hands at your shoulders tighten a fraction, his expression turning fierce. ‘No. It’s not. He made his choices. You’re not responsible for this, okay?’

Panic wars with guilt and you draw your eyes back to the mall, unable to look away. ‘Can we…? Please, I have to know if anyone was hurt.’

He nods, looking across to the jewelry store and deciding the threat has passed. He presses a kiss to your forehead before grasping your hand in his and pushing you into the atrium. 

In the crowd you see many people you recognize. Friends, frequent patrons of the gym, co-workers. The mall feels like home, you realize as you walk, and these people feel like family.

Michael notices you, his eyes dangerous, but subdued and unfocused. Probably as a result of the enormous stains of blood blooming on his sweatshirt. 

Anxiously you scan the crowd as it breaks up, people resuming their lives now that the danger has passed. Chanyeol pulls a girl into his arms and you recognize her as the cashier from the jewelry store. She seems shaken, but unhurt.

You spot Leeteuk and he walks over, running his hand through his hair. He nods at your approach. ‘Hey guys. What a fucking day.’

‘Was anyone hurt? What happened?’ you ask.

He shakes his head and gives you a grim smile. ‘No, thank God. He shot like a wild stallion but he didn’t hit anyone. Took aim at Dale and he dropped him with two to the shoulder.’

You gasp and cover your mouth with a hand. Jongin gives your waist a reassuring squeeze.

‘Don’t worry, he’ll be going away for a long, long time,’ LT says.

‘Thanks, man,’ Jongin says, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair.

‘No problem.’

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he says softly in your ear. ‘It’s over. Finally.’

Wednesday February 11th, 1998

The sunlight in the apartment is warm and yellow, stretching across the sea of boxes still to be unpacked, the mismatched end tables and chairs.

You turn in your brand new bed, still baffled and delighted to find yourself in Jongin’s arms, in the new apartment you’d just moved into together.

The weight of his arm around your waist, the smell of his skin, the morning light - all of it should be perfect.

But a nagging fear rises in your throat. Confusion, swiftly followed by the first hints of tears, push you to gently leave your boyfriend sleeping. He frowns at the absence of your warmth beside him in his sleep.

In the early morning light you tiptoe to the stairs of the loft, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and letting whatever emotion is prompting this work it’s way out of you one tear at a time.

After a few minutes you hear Jongin stir in bed, his sleepy voice calls your name softly. A beat later you feel him behind you, his legs sliding alongside yours, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest.

As always, he doesn’t push you, never forcing you to speak or act before you’re ready. In all the months you’ve known him, through the highs and lows of a new relationship, he’s never changed. Instead he’s only become more steady and grounded by your love. You both have.

He says you were the missing piece he never knew he needed. Something about you brings out the best in him, your relationship the touchstone that sees him through all else, and you know you feel the same.

He sits on the stair behind you, gently easing you into his arms against his chest. For long minutes he presses kisses to the top of your head, keeps the blanket wrapped around you, runs his fingers through your hair.

Eventually the knot in your chest loosens, the fear that burned in your throat passes, cleansed by tears.

You wipe your eyes with the edge of the blanket and sigh, turning and resting your cheek against the bare skin of his chest.

‘I’m sorry if I worried you,’ you start, clearing your throat around the thickness there.

‘You know I’ll never rush you.’ His voice is a low rumble against your cheek.

You nod against him, grinning and pressing a kiss against his bare chest. When you meet his eyes once again you’re in disbelief that this isn’t all a dream. That he’s really here and yours.

But the two of you built your relationship, brick by brick, together. You weren’t merely someone who was chosen. You chose him, chose this. Alongside him and your friends and your sister you built yourself back up into a stronger person.

The things you went through, all the past and history that you once thought would drag you down, only made you into someone who knows her worth and her strength.

You never let life rob you of your hope and love. ‘I thought good things couldn’t last,’ you start and his brow furrows in confusion.

You giggle and turn, kneeling in front of him and smoothing the creases with your thumb before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

‘I thought eventually things would go wrong, somehow’ you continue and his eyes soften in understanding, his hands coming to rub along your arms. ‘But here you are, proving me wrong. Day after day.’

He closes his eyes and smiles, pulling you into an awkward hug on the stairs. You wrap him in your arms as well, holding him closer than you ever thought it was possible to hold someone. His knee might be digging into your side, your hair messily strewn across his face; a bewildering puzzle of body parts and hands and hearts that makes you grin.

But when he breathes, settling against you, you can’t help but feel like you’ve never fit with anyone like this. And you’re never going to let him go.


End file.
